


luminous beings are we: a star wars (love) story

by Waywarder



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Movie Theatre AU, References to Star Wars: Original Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: Crowley is an employee at the notoriously sticky Apocrypha Cinema, where he hands out popcorn and mops up floors and pines after a certain frequent patron.He never expectedthiswould be the film that gave him the courage to finally talk to him.or: The Movie Theatre AU whereinStar Warsis their love language.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 243





	1. Episode One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to slateblueflowers for all of the notes and ideas! Thank you to charlottemadison for the title of the cinema!

_(I’ve got a bad feeling about this:)_

Crowley really didn’t expect to see him.

Not today.

I mean, sure, it was another in the Apocrypha’s series of Modern Classic Matinees, which he never missed, but…

It was also bloody _Star Wars._

Crowley had woken up for the early shift, put together a slapdash Han Solo costume (it was pretty easy; he already had the vest and the boots in his closet), and privately mourned that he most likely wouldn’t be seeing _him_ today. Wouldn’t have more ammunition to add to his daydream arsenal of that white cloud hair and those remarkable, kind eyes and those fidgety hands and...

“ _Mooning_ again, are we, Crowley?” Beez poked him in the ribs as he leaned sullenly over the concession counter, about fifteen minutes until opening the front doors.

“‘That’s no moon,’” Hastur cackled, obviously proud of himself.

“Shut up,” growled Crowley. Ligur just laughed and elbowed him on his other side. They were a pokey sort, the staff at the Apocrypha. 

The Apocrypha Cinema. Oh, you’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. It was a grimy sort of place, the floors eternally sticky, the staff terribly surly, but it showed all the best movies and it served decent booze, so patrons put up with it. 

It was a 10 am Saturday showing which wasn’t always the busiest time slot, but also, it was _A New Hope._ Crowley steeled himself for the onslaught of sweaty nerd patrons. There was already an obvious line out the door. Not that he could blame them. Star Wars was awesome. Hell, Crowley had been the one to suggest screening the original trilogy as part of the matinee series in the first place.

Crowley was just cool about it, understand? 

Crowley straightened up his vest and tugged his fingers through his crimson locks, wishing for the umpteenth time that morning that he had a real blaster. (Again, in a cool way.)

“Your turn to open the doors, Crowley,” Beez reminded him, sneaking a handful of fresh popcorn directly from the machine and shoving it into their face.

Crowley grumbled about it, but went ahead and hopped and slid his gangly way across the counter, striding toward the doors. He fought against the smile threatening to invade his face at the sight of the first group of patrons in line. A group of four kids, all in costume. Crowley recognized the gang right away.

“Nerds,” Crowley greeted them with a fond, little salute as he opened the doors.

“Says _Han Solo,_ ” Pepper pointed out immediately.

“Says fellow Han Solo!” Crowley protested, waving his hand at Pepper’s ensemble, trying not to feel too jealous of her toy blaster. Would it be weird to ask where she’d gotten it?

“I’m just saying,” Pepper put her hands on her hips. (She was Crowley’s favorite, never tell the rest.) “It takes a nerd to know a nerd.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Crowley grinned. “I’m cool. I’m your role model.”

Pepper just groaned and rolled her eyes. 

“Are Twix bars back in stock?” Brian wanted to know, adjusting his little R2-D2 hat.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, you ruffians,” Crowley answered. 

“Come on,” Wensleydate fretted, itching at the gold paint on his nose. “I want to get the best seats!” 

“Relax, Wensleydale,” Adam put a hand on Wensleydale’s shoulder and the bespectacled boy immediately seemed to be more at ease. Adam just had that way about him. Like he didn't even need the bathrobe he was trying to pass off as a Jedi costume to have a way with the Force.

There was a slight rustling and whimpering from beneath Adam’s robe. Crowley raised an eyebrow at him.

“You know the rules, Adam.”

Adam sighed. “I know, I know. Make sure he stays quiet. I always do.”

Look, it wasn’t that Crowley let every dog into the theatre, but Dog and Adam were inseparable. Besides, it wasn’t like the floors could get any stickier, could they?

“Come on!” Wensleydale tugged on Brian’s hand.

“Bye, Crowley!”

The kids hurried past him up to the snack queue as Crowley officially unlocked the theatre doors. He would never admit it, but his heart always warmed a little when the theatre was full. Crowley had been working at the Apocrypha since he was a teenager and when it was crowded… it sort of felt like all his friends had shown up.

He cringed a little at the thought as he retreated back to the concession counter. 

Because he had friends, didn’t he? He had the little Apocrypha crew. They were rough around the edges, sure, and they spent a considerable amount of time taking the piss out of him, but they also didn’t judge him. Didn’t judge the weird, older bloke still working at the weird, older cinema. 

“I can take the next guest!” Crowley hollered, leaning down for a quick moment to wipe fallen root beer off of the counter. He did take _some_ pride in his job. When he looked up again:

“Um, hello.”

The rag slipped promptly out of Crowley’s grip, descending tragically to the floors.

There he was, in that familiar waistcoat and bow tie outfit that drove Crowley unexpectedly mad. He was looking at Crowley with that slightly-worried expression that Crowley always wished he could fix somehow. That he could say anything to make sure this man knew he was welcome, even in this dingy old cinema. 

He did look funny there, even Crowley could admit. He was in his usual color scheme today after all, all creams and light blues. He seemed to glow faintly against the dark backdrop of the cinema’s black velvet walls. 

_“Are you an angel?”_ popped unbidden into Crowley’s head and he instantly wanted to drown himself beneath the soda fountain. There was nothing sexy about the prequel trilogy, for the love of Satan.

“What are you doing here?” is what Crowley heard himself bark out instead.

The angel (oh, fuck his entire life) reddened at the question. 

“Should I not be?” he asked, eyes darting nervously down to the counter.

“You just don’t strike me as the…” Crowley fumbled for less asshole-ish words. “ _Star Wars_ type, I guess?”

“If you must know,” the angel answered. “While I’ve certainly never seen this film before, it’s been suggested to me that it’s actually indeed a modern classic and a hideous gap in my cinematic knowledge.”

Before Crowley could respond to that, the angel’s eyes snapped back up to meet his.

“Besides,” he continued. “I never miss the Saturday matinee.”

(Crowley knew.)

Crowley began filling what he already knew to be this strange man’s order. A small popcorn and a plastic glass of their “nicer” Cabernet. Crowley wished he had something fancier to offer him. Would it be weird to offer to run out and get him something? Probably. Definitely. 

Crowley had seen him for the first time at their _Casablanca_ matinee nearly a year ago. Crowley had thought he was cosplaying for fucking _Casablanca,_ but turns out that’s just how he always dressed. _Here’s looking at you, kid,_ indeed.

Most patrons usually skipped the end credits, especially for these older films with no promise of a post-credits treat. But when Crowley had snuck into the still-darkened theatre to begin sweeping, he was still sitting there, a hand to his heart and tears streaming down his face. Something about it… the open earnestness of it maybe, so alien to Crowley… had cracked a line open down his heart. 

After _It Happened One Night,_ Crowley worked up the nerve to ask him why he stuck around. He’d looked up at Crowley with some surprise in his eyes, as though the answer was obvious.

“Well, it’s polite, I think,” he’d explained. “All of these people worked terribly hard and they deserve the recognition.”

Crowley had never thought to put it that way, but he got it.

“Do you enjoy it?”

The question drew Crowley back to the present from the brink of pouring the red wine to overflowing.

“ _Star Wars?_ ” Crowley asked stupidly, placing the very full cup carefully on the counter.

“Yes,” the angel responded kindly to the stupid question.

“I do like it,” Crowley answered honestly. “Have done since I was a kid.”

“What do you like about it?” the angel wanted to know. “There seems to be such a cultural fuss about it, after all.”

Crowley opened his mouth to immediately say something easy about cool ships and weapons or maybe something clever about the state of the American blockbuster in the 1970’s or maybe even something flirty about Harrison Ford’s ass. 

He gave the angel the truth:

“I mean,” Crowley ran his fingers through his hair. “Friends saving the day, right? What’s not to like?”

The angel smiled at that.

“Indeed.”

Crowley pushed the cup of wine farther across the counter.

“Trust me, you don’t want to miss the opening credits,” Crowley urged him on, hand still resting on the cup.

“I never do,” he accepted the wine, his fingers briefly grazing Crowley’s. 

“Enjoy the show,” Crowley called out after him.

“I always do!” He answered over his shoulder as he walked away. 

Crowley stared after the long, cream-colored coat until it disappeared into the house. An impatient cough from the next guest in line brought him back down to Earth.

“Right, sorry,” Crowley muttered, doing his best to ignore the sniggering of his co-workers. “I can take the next guest!”

Precisely two hours and five minutes later, Crowley snuck into the back of the house with his mop to rapturous applause. This time he didn’t fight his grin. It was dark, after all, and yeah. 

Fucking _Star Wars._

As patrons began to file out past him, sure enough, one soft blonde head remained exactly where it was. Crowley took a deep breath.

What would Han Solo do?

Crowley gathered all his Corellian muster and sauntered down the aisle, losing a little bit of his swagger as he awkwardly sidled his way along the row of seats. He probably should have left the mop and bucket behind, but, well, hindsight and all that. 

“Well?” Crowley prompted once he had made it close enough to his target, desperately curious to know what the angel thought.

He turned to Crowley, blue eyes wide, mouth slightly open. 

“Oh my word,” he breathed. “It certainly wasn’t what I expected.”

“How so?” Crowley fought the urge to drop down into the seat next to him, to hear every word he had to say for as long as he had to say them.

“It’s so…” the angel’s hands sawed the air as he worked to find the right words. “It’s so well-intentioned. It’s really more like a classical fairy tale than a work of science fiction, isn’t it? It’s always nice to see good conquer evil.”

Oh, Crowley couldn’t wait for him to see _Empire._

“It’s more than that,” Crowley surprised himself by saying out loud. “I mean, what even is ‘evil?’ Where does it come from? Once you’re ‘evil,’ is there any chance left for you?”

“You really hit the nail on the head before, I think,” the angel looked up at Crowley as though he was something truly wise and clever. “Friends saving the day. What could be better?”

Crowley just nodded, nothing else wise or clever to say. 

“I’m Aziraphale,” the angel finally said, offering his hand.

Crowley swallowed and took it.

_Aziraphale._

“Crowley,” he responded, shaking Aziraphale’s hand and hoping his own wasn’t too filthy. 

“I’ll see you next Saturday, I suppose?” Aziraphale asked, smiling at him brighter than the twin suns of Tattooine _WHAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING TO HIM?_

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Crowley croaked.

Aziraphale collected his things and began to make his way for the doors. Crowley leaned against his mop handle and tried to keep breathing. 

“Crowley!”

Crowley turned to see Aziraphale paused at the double doors, coat slung over his arm and the empty popcorn box clutched in his grip.

“What is it?” Crowley asked.

“Well,” Aziraphale looked down for a moment, but then seemed to regain something like daring. “May the Force Be With You.”

He scurried out of the theatre without another word.

Crowley sucked in a surprised breath. What a glorious, beautiful fucking weirdo. Crowley held a hand up to his own chest, a little amazed by the frantic beating of his own heart. What was this new feeling?

Oh, right.

Hope.


	2. Episode Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale takes in the following weekend's showing of _Empire Strikes Back_ , determined to be more like certain characters than others.

_(Never tell me the odds:)_

The following Saturday morning, Aziraphale fussed with his bow tie and thought quite a bit more than usual about robots.

Pardon him. “Droids.” He thought about droids.

He thought of little R2-D2, so stubborn and defiant and brave, and he smiled. Then he thought of stuffy, nervous, rule-following C-3P0 and he frowned.

Of all the heroes in the galaxy far, far away, was that who Aziraphale was the most like? He did appreciate the rules, after all, and yes, he had been accused of fussiness on more than one occasion...

_But R2 sticks by him,_ Aziraphale pointed out to himself. _So, he mustn’t be a total bore._

Aziraphale sighed. 

Because, alright, yes, he had had a surprisingly pleasant experience with _A New Hope_ and was sincerely looking forward to the trilogy’s next installment. And he did love going to the movies. He loved sitting in the dark and losing himself within a good story. He liked spending time among wonderful characters who made him feel less alone. 

But the film itself was rarely why he even visited the Apocrypha Cinema anymore. 

He couldn’t tell you for certain when his relationship with the employee known as Crowley had crossed over from something purely transactional into something of the utmost longing in Aziraphale’s heart. He suspected, though, it had happened sometime around the Modern Classic Matinee for another 1970’s blockbuster scored by John Williams.

As usual, Aziraphale lingered in his seat that morning, mostly to show his reverence to the artists and technicians who had poured their hearts into the film, but also a little bit to catch one last glimpse of tall, fire-headed Crowley. 

“What’d you think?” Crowley asked him for the first time, his voice surprising Aziraphale in the darkness. 

Aziraphale sputtered a bit. “Oh! Well, I certainly can appreciate the suspense. Not seeing the shark for so long… what a clever notion.”

“It’s because the mechanical shark didn’t work the way they wanted him too,” Crowley turned his own gaze to the screen, watching the names go rolling by.

“Fascinating.” And Aziraphale meant it. 

“I always feel bad for the shark.”

“For the mechanical shark, you mean?”

“No, for Jaws.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s not his fault, is it?” Aziraphale could just make out the quickening of Crowley’s pulse as he spoke, as if he hadn’t been certain he should say anything at all. “He can’t help being a shark. That’s just who he is, right? Don’t go in the ocean if you don’t like it.”

“I never thought of it like that,” Aziraphale confessed. 

“Nobody does,” Crowley answered, a tad gloomily.

Yes, Aziraphale reminisced. There was something about the gangly movie theatre employee with the sympathy for the man-eating shark. 

After that, Crowley always asked him what he thought and Aziraphale always hoped he had something interesting to say. 

Back in the present day, his traditional popcorn and wine secured, Aziraphale settled into a seat smack in the middle of the theatre. Someone else had filled his order today and he worried briefly that perhaps Crowley had fallen ill. He was always at the concession counter on Saturday mornings, but had been tragically absent today. Aziraphale fretted about it all throughout the trailers for upcoming presentations.

But then the room went dark. And Aziraphale forgot even about Crowley. 

They really were something amazing, the beginnings of these films. Now that he knew what to expect, Aziraphale found himself holding his breath there in the darkness as the blue glow of “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away” appeared on the screen. 

And then there was just a moment. A glorious, agonizing moment.

And then, oh, there was that marvelous first blast of music and those huge yellow, gleaming words and Aziraphale felt a little bit as though someone was reaching out into the darkness to shake him joyfully by the shoulders. As if to say _Just hold on, Aziraphale. Everything is going to be wonderful._

Aziraphale wished he had a hand besides his own to squeeze in excitement and anticipation. He wished he could share this magic with someone.

Two hours and seven minutes later, Aziraphale felt that his jaw had been on the awful theatre floor for the better part of an hour. As always, he stayed frozen in his seat, letting the ending credits wash over him as his fellow patrons picked up their soft drink cups and filed out of the house. 

“So?”

Aziraphale felt his own eyes light up at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Crowley!”

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

And there he was, fingers shoved into his trouser pockets, his mop and bucket wisely left behind in the aisle this time. Even behind the cool sunglasses he wore, Aziraphale thought he looked… it couldn’t have been nervous, could it?

“What did you think?” Crowley grinned coolly, as though he too recognized he was emitting anxiety.

“You might have warned me!” Aziraphale exclaimed, for once entirely uninterested in having something clever to say. “What am I supposed to do until next Saturday morning?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You know you can watch these movies at home, right? They aren’t hard to come by.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to answer that wouldn’t be horribly revealing, so he merely nodded and rose to his feet. 

Crowley walked him out to the lobby, like he never had before.

“Do you work every Saturday morning, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, noting the flush on Crowley’s cheeks at slip of the endearment.

“Almost always,” Crowley admitted. “Nowhere else to be. Why do you ask?”

Working up all the courage he had in his body, Aziraphale answered, “I was wondering if you might be interested in taking in the third film with me.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped just enough and Aziraphale knew he was blushing at the sight of it. He found he didn’t especially care. 

“Beez!” Crowley barked suddenly, never taking his gaze off of Aziraphale.

Someone surly (they all were, really) at the concessions counter yelled right back. “What?”

“I’m taking next Saturday off. Deal with it.”

“You’re closing Friday, then!” they shouted. 

“Fine!”

Aziraphale beamed. Crowley still looked a little struck.

“Why do you want to watch the next movie with me?” he asked.

“I thought it terribly obvious,” Aziraphale admitted. “I have something of a crush on you.”

And then there was a moment. A glorious, agonizing moment. 

“I have a crush on you, too,” Crowley said, simply, softly. “I have for a long time, actually.”

Aziraphale smiled at that, determined to (at least once) be something of a brave scoundrel instead of a nervous droid:

“Oh, my dear. I know.”

_Just hold on, Aziraphale. Everything is going to be wonderful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this fluffy little ride, friends! Have a wonderful day!


	3. Episode Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale and Crowley go on their date to _Return of the Jedi._

_(Don’t look like you’re trying to keep your distance:)_

The final Saturday morning of the original trilogy series, they met up outside of the theatre. As Crowley strolled up to the bench where Aziraphale sat, his eyes went wide behind his glasses. It couldn’t be… I mean, surely not…

“Are you in _costume?_ ” Crowley asked in disbelief, but the grin on his face was impossibly huge.

Aziraphale stood with a little flourish, showing off the golden waistcoat and coat better. He shimmered a little in the morning sunlight. 

“I am C-3P0,” he recited perfectly. “Human cyborg relation.”

“Yes,” Crowley kept grinning. “Yes, you are.”

“I brought something for you, if you’re amenable.” Aziraphale reached into his pocket and withdrew a small… Was it a bow tie? No, not quite...

“I know it’s silly,” Aziraphale confessed, eyes darting away now from Crowley, from the thing in his hand. “It’s for a child, after all, but it goes in your hair and I thought…”

Crowley reached out and took the hair clip from Aziraphale.

The white, blue, silver, and just barely red hair clip.

“So, I’m R2, then?” Crowley slid the clip into his hair and snapped it into place. 

“Well, I thought it only appropriate,” Aziraphale dared to look back at Crowley, beaming a little now at the sight of him in a child’s hair bow. 

“Why’s that?”

“They’re a pair, aren’t they?”

(Spoiler alert: This goes well. They end up seeing many more movies together. But if you ever ask Crowley when he knew it was serious, he’ll always recount the story of how Aziraphale had them sort-of cosplay as R2 and 3P0 for their first date. If he’d had a ring on him at the time, who knows what might have happened?)

“Besides,” Aziraphale continued as Crowley held the theatre door open for him. “You’re rather like R2-D2, aren’t you?”

Crowley made an undignified noise at that. “Um, excuse me? I am clearly Han Solo!”

“Oh, I believe you think that,” Aziraphale agreed right away. “But the noises you make sometimes, my dear… you’re a little droid-like, aren’t you?”

“Ngk,” Crowley sputtered, his cool reputation as shattered as the planet Alderaan.

“I like R2-D2,” Aziraphale soothed his feelings quickly with a gentle pat to Crowley’s shoulder. “He’s very brave.”

“Yes, he is,” Crowley muttered as they approached the concessions counter together. 

“What can I get you two?” leered Hastur, leaning inappropriately forward on the counter to take in the sight of Crowley on a date. Ligur and Beez giggled behind him.

Before Crowley could tell the lot of them to go back to Hell where they belonged, Aziraphale cut in, ever so politely:

“Hello,” he smiled at Crowley’s horrible co-workers. “A large popcorn, if you please.”

Something about Aziraphale’s kindness had an effect on Hastur and the others. As if they couldn’t find it in their hearts to be openly disdainful to this sweet, shiny nerd. All mockery suddenly died on their faces as Hastur went about getting the popcorn together.

“Enjoy the film,” Hastur said awkwardly as he passed the popcorn over.

“Oh, I think I shall,” Aziraphale replied. “And I certainly hope you enjoy the next motion picture you get to experience.”

Crowley winked at Hastur’s stunned expression as they turned together to walk away. As they made their way towards the doors, though, Crowley remembered something. 

“But you always get a glass of wine with your popcorn,” Crowley frowned.

Aziraphale smiled back at him. “As touched as I am that you have my order memorized, I rather thought this morning called for something more special.”

He patted his shiny coat conspiratorially. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“What do you have in there?”

“You’ll see,” Aziraphale replied, a touch of drama in his voice.

Fuck, Crowley liked him.

They wandered into the theatre and went straight for Aziraphale’s favorite row, right in the center. Once they were seated, Aziraphale looked from left to right before sneaking his hand beneath his coat.

“I truly hope I don’t get you into any trouble for this,” Aziraphale acknowledged before producing a bottle of what appeared to be a truly nice wine from his coat.

Crowley’s jaw dropped in delight. “Aziraphale! How were you keeping that entire bottle in there?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Aziraphale tapped his nose knowingly. His pleased smile quickly fell, though. “Oh, dear. I didn’t think of glasses.”

“I’ll go snag some plastic from the lobby, shall I?” Crowley offered immediately.

“Oh, that would be lovely. Thank you.”

Crowley clambered out of his seat and tried not to break out into a sprint in the direction of the lobby. He didn’t want to miss a single minute with Aziraphale.

As he pushed out of the double doors, he nearly collided head on with Adam and his gang.

“Watch it!” Pepper shouted.

“Ssh,” Crowley held a finger to his lips. “This is a cinema.”

“What are you doing here, Crowley?” Adam asked. Damn, that kid was observant. 

“I’m always here,” Crowley pointed out.

“By the snacks, though,” Brian argued. “Not in here.”

“Are you watching the movie? Would you like to sit with us?” Wensleydale asked kindly.

“Not today,” Crowley answered. Fuck, he couldn’t help himself. “Already got someone to sit with.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling. “Someone polite and nice who always wears a bow tie?”

“Shut up, Pepper.” (Again, she was his favorite.)

“Come on, guys,” Adam ushered the other three past Crowley. 

“Yeah, let Crowley get back to his _date,_ ” Pepper teased.

“Have fun, Crowley!” Wensleydale cheered him on.

Crowley grinned as they filed past him. He was having fun. It was nice to have a Saturday morning off, even if he’d turned up at work all the same. 

After some more merciless heckling from his co-workers (it seemed they hadn’t noticed the hair clip at first), Crowley slipped back into the theatre just as the trailers were beginning. Aziraphale’s face seemed to light up at his return and Crowley fought to keep his hands from shaking too obviously as he poured the fancy wine into the little plastic cups. He handed Aziraphale his cup and then lifted his own in a toast.

“To what, do you think?” Aziraphale mused, raising his own cup in solidarity.

“To the Rebel Alliance, I think,” Crowley suggested.

“And to the Jedi,” Aziraphale added.

“Of course,” Crowley nodded. “To the whole galaxy, maybe?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Aziraphale nodded.

“To the galaxy,” Crowley said.

“To the galaxy.”

And they clinked their plastic cups and settled back into their seats, Crowley’s heart pounding furiously in his chest. The fingers of his free hand itched, unsure where to settle, where to rest. 

“You know, I like the beginning the best, I think,” Aziraphale whispered as another trailer ended, his eyes fixed forward on the screen in anticipation.

“What do you like about it?” Crowley asked.

“Well, at the risk of being terribly silly,” A smile stole over Aziraphale’s face. “It’s the hope. The hope that everything turns out alright. The promise that being with the people who mean the most to you results in saving the world. The galaxy even.”

At that, Aziraphale turned to Crowley. Crowley was grateful for the darkness’ ability to conceal the blush he knew he was failing to contain.

_Hold his fucking hand,_ whispered an urgent voice in Crowley’s mind.

_I am fucking getting there,_ Crowley wanted to snarl right back.

“I like the beginning too,” Crowley whispered back to Aziraphale.

“Wonderful place, the beginning,” Aziraphale agreed, nodding and turning his face back to the screen.

The last coming attraction trailer faded into nothingness. Crowley kept his face forward, but his eyes darted to Aziraphale’s empty hand settled on the armrest between them. 

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

Crowley heard Aziraphale’s breath hitch and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Couldn’t stand not reaching out for the hand of this soft, thoughtful, strange creature.

So he did. 

As John Williams’ score blasted into being around them, Crowley reached out and curled his hand around Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale didn’t hesitate before threading his fingers through Crowley’s. 

They kept looking ahead into the stars.

Two hours and sixteen minutes later, Aziraphale and Crowley sat in silence as the end credits rolled, never letting go of one another’s hands.

“Oh,” Aziraphale finally breathed. “Oh, my.”

“Right?” Crowley agreed.

They sat in more awed silence.

_Use the Force, Crowley._

“You know, there are six more of these,” Crowley kept his face forward, his voice casual.

“Are there, really?”

“To be fair, some of them aren’t so great, but-”

“Will you watch them with me?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, I suppose it’s my solemn duty as a cinephile, isn’t it?” Crowley pointed out. 

“Will you watch them with me on a date?”

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand to emphasize his meaning.

“Yeah. Of course I will.”

Aziraphale finally twisted in his seat to look at Crowley.

“Does it end happily ever after eventually? For Luke and all his friends?”

Crowley turned himself to look into those marvelous blue eyes and he knew he couldn’t lie to them.

“I don’t want to give too much away,” he said, slowly, carefully. “But it keeps being hard for all of them. The galaxy is still a scary place sometimes.”

“But they care about each other,” Aziraphale’s eyes blazed in the darkness. “They care about each other and they fight alongside one another and just because we don’t see every minute of their quiet happiness on screen doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, right?”

“Right,” Crowley breathed and leaned forward to kiss him.

Aziraphale leaned into the kiss right away, making a gentle sort of sighing noise against Crowley’s lips, one hand coming up to cup Crowley’s cheek. Crowley’s lips curled into a smile. He’d been doing rather a lot of that lately. 

They cared about each other. And later on there would be moments of strife, big and small, but there would also be moments of quiet happiness. There’s celebrating together on a forest moon and there’s kissing softly in an empty cinema. There will be moments we never see or hear about, but they were there and they mattered all the same. 

May the Force Be With You.

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed going on this very fluffy journey with me! I'm waywarder on Tumblr and I always want to talk about _Good Omens_ and _Star Wars._

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some hopeful fluff today. Thank you for reading! Two more episodes to go, of course.


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